Undefeated
by TheQueenMermaid
Summary: A series of drabbles and ficlets exploring Arizona - and Callie - adjusting to a new reality. They start off angsty, but life keeps moving and so do they. Canon for season 9 and eventually continuing from there.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm the artist formerly known as faery in combat boots. My new username, TheQueenMermaid, is the same as my Tumblr name, so it's just less confusing. Also, in the event that any of my writing gets removed from this site, my Tumblr has a link to my fanfiction masterlist. **

**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not-for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

**A/N:** First of all, I have not forgotten about "Whatever You Can't Do." I just found myself really needing to process after the beginning of this season, so I started writing, and this took on a life of its own. There's a second set of these, which is about halfway done, and then I'll get back to what I was working on and what maybe one or two of you are still reading... Anyway, I hope you enjoy these in the meantime. I can't thank T and G enough for their help on these. I honestly couldn't have done this without you ladies. The title is inspired by Jessica Capshaw's quote, "This is not a story of defeat."

The M rating is currently for language. However, a couple of the pieces in the second installment of this are rated M for sexual situations.

* * *

Her life is over, Arizona is sure of it. Never mind that she's alive; her livelihood, her career, her beauty, her motherhood, her happiness - everything that made her life_ her life_ - it's all over.

It isn't fair. She's a good person, damn it. She saves children. She pays her bills on time and never gets parking tickets. While others might have balked and run away after coming back from Africa to be with their girlfriend, only to find said girlfriend pregnant with her friends-with-benefits' baby, Arizona had stayed. Because she's a good man in a storm and that's what she does.

She should have run away when she had the chance. _It's not like I'm going to be running anywhere now_, Arizona thinks bitterly.

Now the children she saves have a doctor who can't operate on them or even walk into their rooms. The baby she stuck around for has a mother who can't hold her, can't take her on walks, can't go to her in the middle of the night when she's crying. And the girlfriend who became her wife is a lying, untrustworthy bitch who breaks her promises and cuts off people's legs after telling them she won't.

What right does Callie have to march into the room and tell Arizona to "snap out of it"? Callie, who has two toned legs that go on for days and sixteen pairs of fabulous shoes - who the fuck does she think she is? She_ took her wife's life away_ and tries to pretend she understands. "I build bones from nothing, like God," Callie once said. But where was God when Arizona's bones were breaking in half and being sawed off? Where was God when _a goddamn plane was falling out of the sky?_

When she's asleep, Arizona has two legs. Even when she's dreaming of airplanes on fire and Mark Sloan dying in her arms, she has two legs and just a tiny bit of hope. Then she wakes up and there's just empty space - and her life ends all over again.

Sure, she's still alive. But Arizona Robbins' life is over.

* * *

Callie's stopped counting how many days it's been since she last slept. How she is able to keep her eyes open during surgery, or even on her way to surgery, is completely beyond her. The other day, after bringing Sofia home from daycare, she realized she had no recollection of arriving there.

But being exhausted is preferable to sleeping and dreaming – both about better times and worse times. She isn't sure which dreams are more painful to wake from, although, as she watches Arizona's face contort in pain and desperate fear each night, she thinks she would gladly swap nightmares if it would bring her wife the slightest bit of relief.

Being so exhausted that it's physically painful is preferable to closing her eyes and missing a single second of Arizona's life. She almost lost all the rest of them and she'll be damned if she misses another. She's gone too long without appreciating the sight of her beautiful, incredible wife, home, safe, beside her, and she won't do it anymore.

Dragging herself out of bed in the morning like a zombie, every cell in her body screaming at her to stop, is worth it for the peace of mind watching the rise and fall of Arizona's chest brings.

If it's Arizona, it is_ always_ worth it.

* * *

There isn't anything Callie can say these days that doesn't invite piercing anger from Arizona, but if she says nothing, Arizona accuses her of not caring, of finding her disfigured wife so grotesque that she can't even stand to speak to her.

So Callie always says _something_, because even if Arizona's words are flung around in misplaced anger and completely understandable devastation, she _will not _have her wife thinking, even for half a second, that she doesn't care.

Watching Arizona struggle through the short trip to the bathroom threatens to break Callie's heart into even more pieces than it's already in. Finally standing, albeit wobbly, Arizona glances at her post-surgical prosthesis lying haphazardly on the floor. She contemplates it for a short moment and then shoves it aside with one of her crutches. The motion causes her to falter, and though she rights herself quickly, the words are out of Callie's mouth before she can take them back.

"Do you want help?"

Arizona turns to her with a glare that could freeze lava. "Don't you think you've helped enough?"

* * *

Callie's whole body aches as she trudges down the hallway to the apartment, Sofia balanced on one hip. She's been running herself into the ground, hoping that maybe working will take her mind off of everything else. It doesn't, but there's always tomorrow.

Tonight, her nerves are fried, her patience zapped. Work has been stressful and she's barely been sleeping and she misses Mark so much it hurts and Sofia is teething and if the damn bedroom door is_ still _closed -

In the back of her head, Callie knows it's a bad idea, but she just _can't_ anymore, so after Sofia is settled playing with some stuffed animals, she marches into the bedroom. It only fuels her ire when she notes that Arizona is turned away from the door.

"Do you think this is easy for me?!"

Slowly, Arizona's head turns. "_What?_"

"You are not the only one who lost something in that crash, Arizona. I lost my best friend. Meredith lost her sister. Do you think that's easy for us? Do you think it's easy for Sofia to try to understand why her daddy doesn't hold her anymore or why you're not the one who rocks her to sleep at night?"

"Do _not_ come in here and talk to me about -"

"Do you think it's easy for me to try to raise a child by myself? Do you think it's easy for me to come home to you hating me? Do you think it's easy for any of us to walk through the halls every day expecting to see people we'll never see again?!"

"_At least you _can _walk through the halls!_" Arizona screams.

Callie wants to feel guilty. She wants to feel empathetic. She really, really does. But right now, all she feels is white-hot rage and a flush rising on her neck. "Don't throw that in my face!" she shouts back. "You _know_ that's not what I meant. What, do you think I spend all day at work thinking up ways to offend you? I have to be able to talk, Arizona!"

"You want to talk?" Arizona retorts. "You want to talk about loss? Okay, let's talk about loss. I lost my brother. I lost my best friend." She starts counting off on her fingers. "My best friend who, by the way, _you _couldn't help. I lost my closest friends in Seattle because one of them decided to get on a plane -" She laughs bitterly. "-a _plane_ - and move to the other side of the country without even telling me. I watched the other one die in my arms while Cristina Yang of all people picked_ bugs_ out of the _open wound_ in my leg. _My_ leg that _you_ cut off!" Arizona stops to suck in a sharp breath. "Don't you _dare_ come in here and talk to me about loss, Callie. You have no_ idea _what it is!"

"You're right, Arizona. You're right; I'm wrong. Just like always." Callie's voice is dull, defeated. Of _course_ she knows what loss is. She lost her ex-husband. She lost her mother. She lost her best friend and now she's losing her wife before her eyes - not to mention the four days she'd spent growing ever more convinced that Arizona was dead. "You win. You always win. Clearly I don't know anything." Neither woman says anything, but an inferno still rages between their two pairs of eyes. Callie finally turns and heads for the door. "You win," she says again, bitingly. "I'll be right back with your trophy." The door slams shut behind her.

Some number of hours later, both women will remember that in order to care this much, in order to hate someone, you have to love them first.

* * *

**[This picks up immediately where the previous one left off.]**

From her room, Sofia hears the commotion and begins to cry. _There is so much sadness in this home_. Callie runs a hand over her face. She had known Arizona was angry. Knew she was devastated; knew she was terrified of what her future held. But before today, Arizona had never mentioned what she'd gone through in the woods. And just the little bit she'd shared was far worse than anything Callie could have imagined.

No wonder Arizona is so broken. _Like someone scooped all the Arizona out_. Before, Callie was sad for herself. She had missed her wife and wanted her back. But now her heart hurts for Arizona. Sweet, vibrant, good-man-in-a-storm Arizona who's lost so much. Her brother, her best friends. Her leg. Her life as she had always known it. Her life the only way she'd _wanted_ to know it.

All her life, Arizona has been a giver. She gave Callie more second chances than she can remember and a reason to believe in happiness again. She gave their daughter a heartbeat. She regularly gives children their lives back. And to thank her for her trouble, the universe keeps taking things away.

How much can be taken from a person before there just isn't anything left?

* * *

In the beginning, Arizona cried a lot. She never used to be someone who showed her vulnerability to another person – intimidating, authoritarian figures notwithstanding – but somehow, Callie made her feel safe enough to let her guard down.

But that was before. That was when she still felt safe around Callie. When she still trusted her.

Arizona had opened herself up to Callie, had entrusted _everything_ to her, and look where that had gotten her.

On the rare occasions that Arizona doesn't hate her for the promise she had broken, she's sure that her tears are another burden Callie doesn't need or want. They might be the straw that breaks the proverbial camel's back and sends Callie packing for good. And Arizona may hate Callie, but she loves her – needs her with _every_ part of her body, every beat of her heart – too damn much to lose her.

Now it's when she showers that Arizona allows herself to come apart. When the water is so hot it leaves red marks on her skin, that's when she cries. When it's just her body – her mangled, broken, disgusting body – staring mockingly back at her, when there's no light to turn off and no blanket to place over her leg so she can pretend for a second it's still there, that's when she cries.

That's when she wishes, more than almost anything, that the heat of the shower is the warmth of Callie's embrace. Because as much as Arizona may hate her, sometimes she just needs her wife to hold her.

* * *

Sometimes the amputation site is sore, especially when Arizona worries the scar with her fingertips. It's certainly not a pleasant sensation, but if her only two options are soreness and the blinding, searing, shattering pain that engulfs her_ entire_ left leg, she would gladly choose the former.

It's one thing, Arizona thinks, to be caught in recurring nightmares of the crash, to see bone slicing through flesh all over again and to be sure she's going to die out in these Godforsaken woods. It's quite another to be entirely aware and lucid, yet _sure_ her injury was never attended to, because that's how badly it hurts. At least when she wakes up from the nightmares, she's safe in reality, even though it's horrible.

There are the nightmares her mind conjures up in the dark, and there's the never-ending nightmare that is her life now.

When she lies in her bed, trying desperately to massage the unbearable, burning cramp out of something that isn't there, when tears pour from her eyes because the pain _won't stop_, when she sees her wife standing frozen in the doorway, unsure whether she should help or leave her alone...Arizona doesn't know which nightmare is worse.

* * *

Sofia cries for her mama in the middle of the night, just as she's done nearly every night of her life, although now, more often than not, the incoherent baby syllables are replaced with the word "Mama." She tends to calm a little when Callie lifts her from her crib and begins to rock her, but when she realizes the woman holding her isn't the woman she's been missing, she just cries harder until she tires herself out and falls back to sleep.

Arizona cries for her baby in the middle of the night, for the baby she can't care for, whose cries she can't soothe. What if she can't ever hold her daughter in her arms again? What if she can't chase after her when she takes her first steps, dribble a soccer ball with her in the backyard, dance with her at her wedding?

What if Sofia sees what remains of her leg and it scares her even more than whatever woke her up? What if she's completely repulsed and can't bear to be around her?

No matter how she looks at the situation, Arizona can't see a way out of failing her daughter, so at night, mother and baby cry for one another, so close and yet so far away.

* * *

"This is impossible!" Callie yells at Arizona's back. She doesn't like yelling, doesn't like fighting, but sometimes it's just all that's left and she doesn't know what else to do. "No matter what I do, it's wrong. This is impossible, Arizona! You're making it_ impossible!_"

Arizona's head whips around to face Callie, a livid glare in her eyes. "Mark should have lived," she says from the bed, and it lacks the fire she was hoping would be in her words. "I shouldn't have."

Callie's head snaps up. "What?"

"Do you wish I had died instead of Mark?" she asks. "Because…because sometimes I do."

Fury blazes in Callie's eyes. How dare Arizona bring Mark into the conversation? How dare she throw her dead best friend in her face like that? After everything they've been through, how _dare_ Arizona prefer never to have made it home? And yet, at the same time, Callie's heart speeds up and her throat constricts with terror. What if Arizona is really serious?

"Yeah," Arizona snarls, seeing the anger on her wife's face. "That's what I thought."

"No!" Callie practically screams. "Arizona, no. I don't – _you_ don't – should I be worried? Do I need to worry?" She had wanted the question to be softer, kinder, but everything she's feeling right now merges together and manifests in angry loudness. "This – I mean, you've never – is this more than a bad day? Is it more than you being mad? Because I'm scared, Arizona. You're scaring me right now." Callie's voice cracks over her last few words and tears she can't fight fall from her eyes.

Arizona's heart pounds at the raw fear emanating from her wife. Did she put that there? She thinks about what she said. She _hates_ the hand she's been dealt, _hates_ her new life. She hates Callie for giving it to her.

But…she loves her wife. She loves her daughter. Arizona remembers for a brief second how hard she had fought out there in the woods, how determined she'd been to_ live_. Slowly, she shakes her head. No, Callie doesn't need to worry. Not about this, anyway.

Still, she needs to know. "Answer the question." Callie sucks in some air, having forgotten what the question is. "Do you hate me for living?"

"_No_." Callie dashes across the room and drops to her knees at Arizona's side. "I _hate_ that Mark died. I hate that he's gone. But I wouldn't trade _anything_ for you being here."

Arizona doesn't say anything, just looks at her wife with wide, scared eyes.

"If I had lost you…" Callie can't even finish the thought. She reaches to hold Arizona's hands; Arizona instinctively moves them out of Callie's reach. "I love you, Arizona. I can't even imagine you not being here. I love you so much. I-I _need_ you." A lump appears in Arizona's throat at the sincerity in Callie's eyes. "_Nothing_ is _ever_ going to make me stop loving you." She sighs. "I miss Mark. I'll miss him every day. But you're _here_. I know you're mad at me and-and that's okay. Be mad. But please, just be _here_. And I will do _anything_ I can to make being here feel better." If Callie could cut off her own leg and give it to her wife, she would.

Arizona blinks at Callie, a few tears reluctantly escaping. She's angry and devastated and confused (what is life? What is _her_ life?), but that was quite a speech.

Callie kisses the only part of Arizona's body she can reach – a piece of hair that's splayed across her pillow. "Thank you for coming home, honey."

Still Arizona remains silent, but inside, her heart feels about twenty times lighter.

* * *

When Callie hears the bedroom door open behind her, she's sure the lack of sleep has finally gotten to her and she's hearing things. It isn't until she hears the rhythmic thudding of Arizona's crutches that she dares to turn around from where she's sitting on the couch, half reading a magazine and half watching Sofia as she plays.

"Hi," she says in what she hopes is a completely neutral tone. She isn't sure what else to say.

Sofia is the opposite of neutral. She actually gasps before squealing, "Mama!" in pure delight. Not quite a walker yet, she scuttles over to Arizona on her hands and knees, pulls herself up on Arizona's right leg, and beams up at her.

"Hi," Arizona whispers, and Callie chooses to believe Arizona is addressing both of them.

"Mama!" Sofia blows a sloppy kiss into the crook of Arizona's knee. She runs a hand briefly over a crutch and Arizona's breath hitches, but then Sofia just looks back at her and smiles. She doesn't seem to notice that anything is different. "Hi!"

"I'm hungry," Arizona says, and Callie isn't sure who she's talking to anymore.

Still, she responds. "What do you feel like? I'll get you some—"

Arizona shakes her head. "Do we have any peanut butter?"

"Yeah, we, uh, yeah," Callie stammers. "It's, um – here, let me –"

Another head shake. "Where?"

"Um, it's…cabinet to the right of the fridge."

Arizona nods, making her way into the kitchen. "Excuse me, Sofia," she says almost playfully. Sofia giggles.

Callie watches Arizona, not even sure if she's blinking. She's always been able to reach that cabinet, but Arizona always had to stand on her toes. How is this even…

Bracing her left side on the countertop below the cabinet, Arizona stands on the toes of her right foot, opens the door, grabs the peanut butter jar, and closes the door again. She roots around in the silverware drawer for a spoon and grabs an apple from the bowl on the breakfast bar. Apple clasped between her teeth, peanut butter and spoon tucked under her chin, she slowly maneuvers herself back to the bedroom and closes the door behind her with her shoulder.

Unsure of where else to look, Callie casts a bewildered glance to Sofia, who smiles back at her and says, "Hi."

It wasn't much, but oh, god, that was _something_.

* * *

"How could you do this to me?" Arizona screams. The fight is not anything new, though sometimes the actual words change from day to day. "You ruined my life! You _broke_ me!"

Sometimes Callie screams back; other times she doesn't say anything.

Today she speaks, voice worn and tired, yet calm and level. "I love you," she says. "I did what I did so you could come home to me. So you could live."

"You love me?" Arizona spits. "You have a funny way of showing it." Callie doesn't say anything. "Get out."

"Arizona…"

"Get out! _Get out!_" Arizona's voice breaks and she dissolves into angry sobs.

Callie turns to leave, but she turns back to Arizona with her hand on the doorknob. "I will _never_ give up on you."

* * *

Sometimes Callie isn't sure which part of this breaks her heart the most, but tonight it's listening helplessly as Arizona's brain traps her in the woods all over again. She tries to wake Arizona from her nightmares, but it never seems to work, the combination of drugs and memories too strong.

Instead she just runs her fingers through Arizona's hair, determined to bring her as much peace as possible. "You're safe, Arizona," she whispers. "You're safe. I have you." Callie doesn't know whether that fact actually makes Arizona feel better or not, but she refuses to give up hope that one day it will. "You're home and you're warm and you're safe. I won't let anything else happen to you. I –" Her voice falters as the dreaded P-word almost falls from her lips. She takes a steadying breath. One day she'll make a promise to Arizona and Arizona will believe her (and Callie will believe herself), but until that day comes, she just presses a kiss to her wife's hairline. "I love you." She says it over and over. "I love you. I love you."

In her sleep, Arizona forgets her anger and resentment and remembers only the visceral _need_ for her wife that seems to permeate every one of her senses. She holds onto Callie's shirt until her knuckles turn white.

Callie will repeat herself until her voice disappears. "I love you, Arizona. Forever."

* * *

The morning is no different from any other morning. Callie lingers in the doorway of their bedroom with Sofia in her arms; Arizona lies with her back to them both.

"We're going," Callie says softly. "I'll be home around six." There's no response, and Callie doesn't expect one. "Do you need anything before we go?"

Arizona turns onto her back and Callie winces, bracing herself for the words of anger and reproach that tend to come in response to that question. Indeed, the first syllable of a rage-fueled reply slips through Arizona's lips, but then she stops and something in her face softens.

"No," she says brusquely. "No." She repeats herself, more softly this time. "Can, um…" She trails off and Callie doesn't push. "Can I say goodbye to Sofia?"

"Of course," Callie breathes, and she and the baby are at Arizona's side in a flash.

Arizona pulls herself into a sitting position and Callie deposits Sofia beside her.

"Mama," Sofia says happily, wasting no time in crawling into Arizona's lap. Arizona tenses, aware that her lap is a very different place than it used to be. Sofia doesn't seem to notice, even when she places her hand on the mattress where Arizona's knee once was. She looks up curiously for a second, but then she snuggles into her mama's chest and smiles.

"How are you this morning, Sofia?" Arizona asks, and it sounds like she really wants to know.

Sofia gazes into Arizona's eyes as if thinking of the perfect response. "Poop," she finally says.

"She's not," Callie rushes to interject. "I just changed her. She just likes the word."

Arizona smiles. It's a small, cautious smile, but it's a smile. "It's a funny word," she tells Sofia. "Just do us all a favor and learn some new ones today, okay?"

Sofia grins. "Mama."

Callie looks at her watch. It pains her to end this moment, but she's about to be late. "We really do have to go," she apologizes. "We'll see you later. I love you."

Arizona nods, avoiding eye contact with Callie as she hoists Sofia onto her hip. She doesn't say anything else, and before Callie is even to the door, Arizona is turned away from her again.

Arizona is trying and this is a good morning.

* * *

For a while, the medications Arizona was on took away her appetite, and then the sadness, the fear, the anger – they all made food fairly unpalatable.

She's eating more now, although it's obvious that she doesn't enjoy it all that much, and she definitely doesn't eat enough for Callie's liking.

Hence the doughnuts.

Callie isn't sure whether Arizona actually wants them or not, although at this point she doesn't particularly care. She'll force-feed her wife if she has to. But though Arizona often rolls her eyes or turns her back to Callie, she's never asked her to stop bringing them, and the doughnuts always disappear eventually. (At first, Callie thought that maybe Arizona was disposing of them or hiding them somewhere, but then she found a smudge of frosting on the sheets and stopped wondering.)

Today's selection is one chocolate, one maple-glazed, and one jelly-filled, and as Callie places the plate on Arizona's bedside table, Arizona makes a noise that is_ almost_ a chuckle.

"If you keep feeding me like this, neither of my legs is going to be able to support my weight."

Callie just shakes her head and smiles softly. "Eat up."

She's halfway to the door when she hears something she almost never hears anymore: Arizona calling her name.

Callie turns around slowly, cautiously. "Hmm?"

In one hand, Arizona holds a half-eaten doughnut; with the other, she's wiping jelly from her face. "Are there any powdered ones?"

* * *

As Arizona prepares herself for another long day of confusing feelings (she misses Callie when she's gone, but sometimes the sight of her face or those damn bone-breaking hands makes her so angry she can feel it in her gut), boredom, and pain, physical and otherwise, she realizes something.

It's sunny.

She can't remember the last time that happened. To be fair, she hasn't looked out a lot of windows lately, but it does seem like every time she sees Callie, her hair is wet from the rain.

Arizona used to love sunny days. On sunny days, she took Sofia to the park. She and Callie went for walks together if they weren't both working at the same time. Sometimes she just sat on a bench somewhere and watched the sky.

Looking at the sunlight shining through the bedroom shades, Arizona chokes back tears as she wishes beyond all belief that she could do those things again.

_You_ can _do all those things_, a tiny, dusty corner of her brain screams at her. _You just have to let yourself. You just have to _be.

Usually, when that part of her brain speaks up, Arizona silences it by focusing on everything she can't do, on how broken she is – or by yelling at Callie.

Today, though, something is different, just a little. Maybe it's the sun or maybe she's just really, really bored, but Arizona realizes how much she misses sunny days. She misses playing with Sofia at the park and she misses saving tiny humans at work. She misses her life. And yet, there it is, staring back at her, waiting for her to open the shade and let it pour in with the sun. Maybe it's been there this whole time.

Somewhere on her bedside table is the notecard with the physical therapist's phone number on it.

Sunny days are few and far between. They're precious, and Arizona wants to be there for the next one.

* * *

So far, every attempt Arizona has made to walk on her new leg has ended in her taking half a step and falling. She's starting to think that prostheses work for plenty of people, but she isn't one of them.

From her place on the couch, still sweaty from PT and feeling the unpleasant pinch of the artificial limb she has yet to get used to, she watches as Sofia makes block towers and then delights in knocking them over. Arizona sighs forlornly and Sofia looks up at her, an adorable concerned expression on her face.

"Mama," she says, forgetting her blocks in favor of her mother.

Arizona musters a shaky smile. "Hi, baby."

Smiling, Sofia pulls herself up on the ottoman next to her. She's been standing a lot lately. "See."

"I see you, big girl." Arizona tries to sound excited, but her voice cracks without her permission.

Sofia's smile falls. "Mama," she says again, sounding worried. Arizona doesn't know what to say to reassure her, but before she can think about it too much, Sofia lets go of the ottoman and takes one, then two, shaky steps toward her.

Of all the times for Callie to take a shower.

Arizona's eyes widen and she isn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Watching Sofia reach this milestone is incredible, but the fact that her baby is walking before she is, is a hard truth to accept.

On her third step, Sofia falters and falls on her bottom. Her face registers shock before it crumples and she starts to cry.

"Oh, sweetie, it's okay," Arizona coos. "It's okay. You did such a good job. When you fall, you get up again." She steels her resolve and slowly pushes herself off of the couch. "Like this." She wobbles for a second and she readies herself to fall back onto the couch, but then her body compensates and she realizes she's still standing.

Sofia whimpers softly but stops crying when she notices her mama addressing her. The ottoman is still close enough for her to pull herself up again, and she does. "Up." She looks at her feet, then at Arizona, and takes another step.

A few feet away, Arizona bears her weight on her right leg and lifts her left thigh. And, amazingly, the metal leg moves with it. She isn't quite sure what's going to happen when the left foot hits the ground, but she just closes her eyes and hopes she balances her weight properly when it does.

She doesn't fall. Neither does Sofia. Smiles adorn both faces and tears flow unbidden from Arizona's eyes.

"Mama, up!" Sofia claps her hands excitedly. "Yay!"

That's how Callie finds them when she comes out of the shower: laughing, crying, and cheering each other on. A slow grin spreads across her face. Apparently both of her girls are making big steps today.

* * *

Callie is falling asleep on the couch to some old movie playing on the TV when she feels the couch dip next to her. She doesn't know who she's expecting, but she's surprised to see Arizona.

Arizona is so close that her right thigh touches Callie's left. "What's on?"

"I don't know," Callie confesses. There's a beat of uncomfortable silence. "Arizona, I…"

"Don't," Arizona says. "Don't say anything. Just sit."

Callie nods. She's afraid to move or blink or breathe. "We can change the channel if you want," she finally whispers.

"No," Arizona replies. "No. Just sit."

So they do.

* * *

They've reached a sort of unspoken agreement where Callie watches Arizona's physical therapy sessions through the door and Arizona always knows – and Callie always knows that she knows – but neither of them says anything about it.

Callie wishes she could tell Arizona how remarkably proud she is, how happy she is that her wife got out of bed and started attending her appointments. She wishes she could come out and say that Arizona is a portrait of incredible strength, and maybe even that she looks sexy when she's all focused and determined like that. But Callie knows that these are conclusions Arizona needs to come to on her own and that they won't mean anything if she just repeats them over and over.

Even with the parallel bars for support, walking on the prosthetic leg is exhausting and difficult, and Callie can feel Arizona's frustration through the door. And when Arizona's body finally protests what's being asked of it, when both flesh and metal knees buckle and she crumples to the floor, she lets out a devastated cry that makes Callie feel like she's been punched in the stomach.

She longs, with every cell in her body, to rush through the door to her wife's side, to scoop her up in her arms and tell her it's okay, that she's doing _amazing_ and that it's just going to take a lot of work. But again, she knows that isn't what Arizona needs, so she stands rooted to her spot, trying not to cry.

And then, miraculously, waving off assistance from her physical therapist, Arizona struggles to her feet, upper arms shaking with the effort and sweat pouring from every inch of exposed skin.

This morning, Callie was sure that Arizona, curled up safely in bed and sleeping peacefully, was the most incredible thing she had ever seen. But she was wrong. This is.

* * *

Not once in her life did Arizona ever entertain the thought that, somewhere in her morning routine between "towel-dry hair" and "put on pants," there would be a "put on leg" step. That's one of the downright weirdest parts of this for her: the notion that she isn't fully dressed for the day until she's _wearing_ one of her body parts.

But here she is. Towel-dry hair. Put on underwear. Put padding and socket on over residual limb. Attach leg. Put on pants and try not to get stuck or trip. Callie is never allowed to help. She isn't allowed to see Arizona naked, either. Those are the rules. No help and no nakedness.

Arizona supposes she _could_ put on makeup or jewelry, but she doesn't really see the point. She's just going to be a hideous monster anyway.

Still, when she walks out of the bedroom – unconfident, limping, holding onto the wall – fresh from her shower and dressed in that blue top that matches her eyes, she is _the_ most beautiful woman Callie has ever seen.

* * *

Sometimes Arizona thinks she just might be getting the hang of this walking thing. This morning she's managed to walk all the way to the kitchen without tripping, make a pot of coffee, and carry a cup into the living room.

She sits down on the couch and bursts into tears.

"Arizona." Callie hasn't left for work yet and she rushes in from Sofia's room. "Honey, what's wrong? Does something hurt?"

Arizona shakes her head. "I'm so _tired!_" she cries. "All I did was make coffee and sit down and I'm exhausted, Callie. Every muscle is sore and I'm just so tired!"

"Arizona," Callie breathes sympathetically. "You're getting there. Your body has to work harder now, but you're doing it. You _are_. You just have to take it –"

"I don't _want_ to take it slow!" Arizona shouts through her tears. "I don't want to take baby steps. I just want to be a normal person!"

"You _are_ –"

"It's not _fair!_" Arizona screams. "Why did this happen? It isn't fair!" She reaches down and detaches her leg, hurling it to the floor. Both women wince softly at the loud clanging noise it makes. "It's not fair," Arizona sobs again, curling her right leg underneath her body and leaning back into the couch. "It's not fair."

Callie sighs and takes a seat next to Arizona. "I know, sweetie." Arizona doesn't move away from the closeness, so Callie takes a deep breath and rests her head on Arizona's shoulder. She kisses her wife's neck. "I know it isn't."

* * *

"I would understand," Arizona says one night, totally unprecedented, "if you wanted to leave."

Callie turns from where she's flossing her teeth in front of the dresser. "What?"

Arizona motions to herself. "I'm not much of a wife anymore."

"Arizona…"

"I can't do anything. I'm not fun to be around. I'm definitely not sexy –"

"Arizona, you're _beautiful_ –"

Arizona just shakes her head. "I'm not even…this isn't even me. I'm not the woman you married and I don't think I ever will be again. So I'm just saying that if you wanted to leave, if you wanted to find someone who can be a wife to you and-and make you feel like you're one, too…I would understand."

Callie lets the dental floss float to the floor, and before she's even fully aware of what she's doing, she's climbing into bed next to Arizona and grabbing her hand.

"Everything you are," Callie says, voice choked with love and reverence, "is everything I have ever wanted. I'm not going _anywhere_."

It's a promise, even though Callie doesn't come out and say so, and for some reason, Arizona can almost believe her.

* * *

Callie is sure everyone is going to make a big deal about Arizona's first day back at work, so she purposely doesn't except for the post-it note she leaves in her wife's locker that says "I love you!"

Arizona is still just consulting for the time being, so there aren't any surgeries for Callie to watch – but there are plenty for her to perform herself, so consequently, she doesn't actually see her wife until she stops by the daycare for a quick visit with Sofia and finds Arizona already there.

"And then Mama told that silly intern that he was wrong and that it was definitely Katie's kidney, and who do you think was right?" Sofia just blinks at Arizona from her perch in her mama's lap. "So she's in surgery right now and Bailey is going to make her all better, because Mama knew it was her kidney and not her intestine. Interns are just so silly."

Callie almost slips away undetected, but Arizona chooses that moment to look up and see her. She doesn't smile exactly, but she doesn't glare or roll her eyes or look away, either.

At the end of the day, as Callie changes back into her street clothes, her eye catches something in her locker. It's a post-it note – the same one she left for Arizona that morning, she realizes with a start. She barely breathes until she notices one small difference. At the bottom of the paper, there's a heart drawn in pink Magic Marker.

It's been close to five months and Arizona still hasn't said or written the words, but Callie can feel them radiating off the little paper, and the next day she comes to work armed with clear packing tape. That note isn't moving an inch.

* * *

It's going on six months and Callie and Arizona still don't really know how to be in a room together. They coexist – sometimes very closely – but Arizona still can't say "I love you" and Callie still can't make a promise without wanting to throw up, which is how they find themselves side by side on Dr. Anders' couch, trying to figure out what their lives mean and remember how they intersect.

"I'm sorry I promised," Callie is saying.

Arizona shakes her head. "I'm sorry I made you promise."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help Nick."

There's a beat of silence that doesn't feel as uncomfortable as silences between them have felt so often lately, and both women are so intently focused on each other that they nearly forget the therapist is even in the room.

A subtle, extremely cautious twinkle appears in Arizona's eye and is gone. "I'm sorry I went to Africa." The corner of her mouth twitches and quirks up.

Callie barks out a loud, surprised laugh, then claps a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry I just made that noise." She reaches for whichever one of Arizona's legs is closest to her and doesn't realize it's her left until her fingers are already touching her thigh. Callie tenses, and for a moment it seems like Arizona is either going to slap Callie's hand away or haul herself to her feet and flee the room. "I'm sorry," Callie whispers. "I didn't –"

Arizona lays her hand on top of Callie's, stilling her fingers. "Don't be."

* * *

"Did I miss anything?" Callie slides into an empty seat in the gallery next to Alex.

"No, they just made the first cut and they're about to take the liver out."

Callie nods, watching intently as her wife's steady hands work to remove her twelve-year-old patient's liver from his body in preparation for the healthy donor liver that's about to replace it.

To anyone else, Arizona is the picture of quiet confidence, performing this surgery as steadily and assuredly as she's performed any other. But they didn't all see her this morning, pacing the kitchen, nearly hyperventilating with nerves over her first surgery since her return to the hospital.

She doubts the statement would be well-received, but even hours later, Callie finds the memory of Arizona trying on outfit after outfit in preparation for today completely adorable. Scrubs had replaced the jeans and blouse almost as soon as Arizona had arrived at work, but today is a big day and the right jeans-blouse combination is everything. (Still, the image of Arizona putting her fourth – or was it her fifth? – shirt on inside-out and backwards is one Callie wishes she'd gotten on film.)

Callie is on the edge of her seat for the whole surgery, not because there are complications, but because she desperately wants to see Arizona's triumph when she realizes she did it. At one point, Arizona looks like she might be losing steam; she's leaning on her right side and even from the gallery Callie can see the sweat beading on her forehead.

"Come on," Callie mutters under her breath. "You can do this. Arizona, you've got this. You can do it."

And she does. She stretches her back, focuses on her hands, and finishes the surgery without a hitch.

Arizona stands in the OR long after the patient has been wheeled to recovery. That's where Callie finds her with a slightly dazed look on her face, gloves and mask still in place.

"Hey," Callie offers, entering cautiously.

Arizona turns to her, eyes bright. "I did it."

Callie breaks into a huge grin. "You did it." She rests a hand on Arizona's back and kisses the part of her face that isn't covered by the mask or the scrub cap. "How did it feel?"

"I'm exhausted," Arizona replies sadly. "It wasn't even two hours and I'm beat."

"You'll get there," Callie assures her. "You will. But Arizona, you just gave a kid a new liver and saved his life. How does _that _feel?"

This time Arizona's eyes belie the joy that rests just underneath the self-recrimination. "It feels _amazing_."

* * *

Arizona stays angry at Alex for much longer than she stayed angry at Callie. The process of forgiving and learning to trust again is slow and it's still ongoing, but once she moved into the acceptance stage of her grief, it started getting easier.

Alex, though - he's the reason there's even a grieving process in the first place. He's the reason Arizona got on that damn plane. Arizona isn't proud of it, but sometimes when she sees him, she'd kind of like to remove her prosthesis and beat him with it.

But as she watches him bring a smile to the face of a scared, young patient, something starts to shift, and she has to stop and think. Alex Karev is a good doctor, a great surgeon. There was never any doubt about that. He is made for pediatrics, that much is obvious, and Arizona is fairly certain he's the reason the department didn't fall apart in her absence. When she was stuck at home, finally committed to healing but not yet ready to return to work, he sent copies of scans and charts from his most interesting cases home with Callie to share with her. And on her first day back, he brought her coffee, a muffin (which she ate once he was out of sight), and a plant for her office.

And...he hadn't left. So many people had left Arizona when she needed them, but Alex hadn't.

Sure, he was going to abandon everything - and everyone - he'd worked for in Seattle in favor of Hopkins. But he'd only gotten the offer from Hopkins in the first place because Arizona had recommended him. Because he's such a great doctor and has so much to offer. Because Hopkins is her alma mater and Alex is just like her, so clearly he should follow in her footsteps.

When she'd had all that time to think out in the woods, Arizona had come up with a list of ways in which she and Alex were definitely _not_ alike. At the time, it sickened her to think that she had ever believed they were.

The patient laughs as Alex cracks a joke and Arizona finds herself unable to remember most of her list. Yes, he picked Hopkins over what she had to offer him. But once upon a time, she had picked Africa. The way she'd gone about it was wrong, she sees that now, but her motivations for going were honorable.

The way he'd gone about his decision was wrong, too, but maybe Alex wasn't being an ungrateful jerk. Maybe he was being a good doctor. Maybe he was being everything Arizona had coached him to be.

Arizona left Africa for Callie and Alex stuck around - for her.

Alex was a horror show as a resident, but so was Arizona, and look who she'd become. She can't deny, watching Alex simplify a complicated surgical procedure for the patient and his parents, that she's happy with who he's becoming.

Maybe they aren't so different after all.

"Oh, sorry." Alex nearly bumps into Arizona as he leaves the patient's room. "I didn't see you there." He looks at her for a moment and turns to leave. "Well, I -"

"My fellowship program starts in two weeks," she interrupts him. "Have you submitted all your paperwork?"

Alex looks at Arizona like she's lost her mind. "No, I didn't think-"

"I need all of it or we won't be able to get started." Alex opens his mouth, but before he can speak, his pager goes off. "Go," Arizona dismisses him. "Come to my office at three. Bring me coffee and a bagel and we'll talk about it." She nods once. "Three sugar packets. Sesame seed bagel."

"O-okay," Alex stammers. What else are you supposed to say when the person who you thought lost faith in you - the one person whose faith in you you really want - just gave you reason to hope again? "Yeah. Okay."

"Good. And tuck in your shirt. You're wearing scrubs, not pajamas." With that, Arizona turns to leave and Alex takes off running to where he's been paged. Arizona smiles ever so softly to herself. Maybe she won't beat him with her leg. Maybe she'll just step on his toe a little.

The process of forgiving and learning to trust again is slow and ongoing. But the bridge between Arizona Robbins and Alex Karev just got a little easier to cross.

* * *

Callie always runs when her pager goes off, but when she looks down and sees that Arizona is paging her, she _runs_.

She braces herself for the worst when she throws open the door of their on-call room, and she's not sure whether the scene that greets her is the worst or not. Arizona is standing to the side of the room, fiddling with her own pager. Her eyes are misty; she's obviously been crying, but she doesn't look particularly sad. She looks almost…happy.

"Arizona," Callie says breathlessly. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

Arizona moves to stand in front of Callie, and Callie marvels at how nearly seamless the motion is. "Callie," Arizona says softly. "Calliope." Callie's breath hitches. When was the last time Arizona called her that?

Two pairs of eyes gaze into each other, months of ache and weariness falling away in favor of something softer.

This room, _their_ room, the scene of so much passion, so much feeling, brightens with promise. _Promise_. The room has missed them; it's been so long since there has been anything but tiredness in here. And for the first time in months – but what feels like much longer – two women dare to hope that this room could be_ theirs_ again.

Fingers intertwine; tears slip down cheeks; weight on one pair of shoulders finally becomes shared. Bodies mold together as if perfectly sculpted for this moment, two sets of arms each refusing to be the first to let go. Understanding is whispered against shells of ears; apologies and hope are muttered into downy locks.

Broken, shattered hearts dance and begin to mend, all because of what Arizona has paged Callie here to tell her:

"I love you, Calliope. And I couldn't wait another minute to tell you."


	2. Chapter 2

So, this kind of took on a life of its own and it will now be three parts instead of the originally-intended two. Yay! Huge, huge thanks to G, A, and T for all their help and encouragement. I couldn't have done this without any of you. And thank you, everyone for such an enthusiastic response to part one! I was so happy and humbled reading all of your positive words. 3

There are a couple of smutty ficlets in this part. I warned for them specifically at the beginning of the ficlet.

* * *

Woken unexpectedly by her pager, Callie runs on autopilot, throwing open the door of the bathroom and hauling herself inside.

Arizona is already there: naked in front of the mirror, hair tousled from sleep, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, standing on the prosthesis she uses almost exclusively for showering. Her clothes for the day lie on the lid of the toilet next to her. She changes in the bathroom. Callie's seen her naked plenty of times since the amputation, but it was never really up to her. Now it is. Even though her body betrayed her and feels most days like it ought to belong to someone else, it's _hers _and hers alone. Arizona loves her wife, no questions asked, but she just can't be vulnerable anymore.

When the door crashes open, Arizona startles and jumps. "No!" she screams, wrapping her arms around as much of herself as she can. In her scrambling, she stumbles, and she's so frantic that trying to right herself just makes her fall faster. She lands in an ungraceful heap on the floor, grabbing her shirt on the way down so she can hold it against her body. Her elbow hits something and she cringes at the pain that reverberates through her arm. "Get out!" She turns wide, frightened eyes to Callie.

"Huh?" Callie's head is still heavy with sleep. She blinks a few times, finally focusing on the scene unfolding in front of her. "My pager," she explains, "I have to -"

"No." Arizona's heart pounds in her ears, breath leaving her body faster than she can suck in more. Callie can't see her like this. _"I thought I could get to the toilet in time by myself. Apparently I was wrong." Arizona Robbins has no dignity left in the world. And then Callie looks at her with disappointment, anger, frustration, _pity_, and she has even less. _"No, no, no. No, you have to get out. _Please_. Please, you have to leave."

"Arizona," Callie tries, brain finally catching up all the way. "I didn't mean to scare you. My pager went off and I got up. I didn't know you were in here." She offers an arm to help Arizona off the floor. "Are you okay?"

_"Do I look okay? I'm sitting in a pool of my own urine!" She begs Callie to get out, to leave her alone, but she won't. Arizona needs to hide and Callie won't let her._ "No!" Arizona curls further into herself. "Get out! Get out! You have to get out!" Her voice sounds foreign to her own ears. All she knows is that she's a burden, she's _disgusting_, and Callie must be so disappointed and she can't see her like this and she has to leave -

"Arizona-" Callie tries again, softer this time.

She tries desperately not to let them, but tears fall from Arizona's eyes anyway. "I'm sorry," she cries into her right knee. _"You now stink! This bathroom stinks! I am not sharing my home with anyone who smells like this!" _"I'm sorry." She's apologizing for the past and the present, caught between two realities. "Please just get out."

"I'm going." Callie finally holds her hands up in surrender. "I'm going. I'll use Sofia's bathroom. I'm just going to grab my toothbrush, okay?" She takes a slow step toward the sink. "It's okay." Toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, she heads for the door. "It's okay." The door clicks behind her and Arizona sobs.

* * *

**[takes place immediately after the previous one left off]**

Freshly showered and dressed, Callie bustles into the living area. She's aware that she has to leave, has to answer her page, but Arizona is sitting at the breakfast bar looking so lost and she can't just leave her like that.

"You okay?" Callie asks softly, laying a tentative hand on her wife's shoulder.

Arizona jerks away. "Don't touch me."

Callie sighs and crosses to the other side of the bar, where she can look Arizona in the eye. "I'm sorry," she says. "I know you don't like me coming into the bathroom while you're in there. I just - I was asleep, my pager went off, and I didn't think. I wasn't thinking."

Arizona finally looks at Callie with glassy eyes. "I said please," she says brokenly.

"What?"

"In the bathroom. When you found me in - after I - before." Callie swallows hard. She knows exactly what Arizona is talking about. "I s-said _please _get out. I said -"

"Arizona," Callie breathes. "I am so sorry."

"I get it," Arizona presses on. "I do. You were upset and tired and you missed Mark and I was being -"

"You had every right to be -"

"But I-I said please. I was angry and I screamed at you but I said please. You weren't supposed to find me. You weren't supposed to see...that. And then you said -"

"I am _so _sorry," Callie repeats, shaking her head. "I'm not proud of that night."

"Me either." Arizona casts her eyes down in shame. "I mean, I couldn't even - I was sitting - it was disgusting. I'm disgusting."

"_No,_" Callie insists. "No. I shouldn't have said-"

"How can you not see..._that_...every time you look at me? How can you stand to be around me?" Arizona finally voices the concern that's been gnawing at her for months, that she's never acknowledged in couples' therapy. This is between her and Callie, no one else.

Callie reaches for Arizona's hands. "I said 'in sickness and in health,'" she says quietly but firmly. "And I meant it. This is a marriage, Arizona. We see each other at our best and we see each other at our worst. But I'm all kinds of in love with you, so when I look at you, I see my wife." She lets go of one of Arizona's hands and cups her face. "Did we love Sofia any less after the projectile vomit incident?"

Arizona chuckles softly. "No."

"Because when we look at her, she's our ridiculously cute baby. That doesn't change. And when I look at you, you're my wife. This incredibly strong, beautiful, amazing woman with dimples I'm totally powerless against. That doesn't change either. It never did."

Arizona exhales shakily, not fully believing what Callie is telling her but knowing she wants to try to. "Okay."

"And I'm sorry," Callie says again. "I'm sorry about that night and I'm sorry I didn't knock this morning." She squeezes Arizona's hand. "And when Sofia wakes up, tell her I'm sorry for using her shampoo."

Arizona allows herself to laugh, albeit a little subdued. "I thought your hair seemed softer than usual."

Callie's pager goes off again and she growls at it. "I have to go," she apologizes. She crosses back to Arizona's side of the bar and cautiously holds out her arms. Arizona surprises them both by allowing herself to be pulled in. "Are you going to be okay?"

Arizona nods and releases a shuddering breath into Callie's shoulder. "Yeah." She wraps her arms tightly around her wife. "Just please don't leave me."

* * *

**[...And **_**this**_** one takes place immediately after the **_**last **_**one left off.]**

While she's in the ER, Callie's sole focus is the man whose hip was shattered in a car accident, the man she was paged to treat. She's always impressed herself with her ability to turn the emotional part of her brain off and back on again.

But as soon as he's stable enough to be taken into surgery, Callie scrubs in, picks up a scalpel, and thinks about Arizona.

She wonders what her wife is doing now. Getting Sofia dressed? Feeding her breakfast? Or is she still sitting in the kitchen, stewing in memories, shame, and self-judgment? Callie would give anything to be at home with her, still holding Arizona and reassuring her that she's never leaving.

More than that, Callie would give anything - everything - to take back what she said to Arizona in their bathroom all those months ago. Not a day has passed since then that she hasn't replayed the conversation (can she even call it a conversation?) in her mind at least once, and she's sure Arizona has replayed it even more. Arizona probably can't _stop_hearing Callie's words, and she wishes with everything in her body that she could take them back.

Callie can feel it in Arizona's body when she holds her at night in bed, hear it in the way Arizona almost sounds like she's pleading when she says "I love you" sometimes: Arizona doesn't fully believe that Callie isn't going to change her mind one day and leave. She doesn't fully believe that Callie is still with her not out of obligation or necessity, but out of all-consuming love.

Arizona is someone who has always prided herself on being self-sufficient. She thrives on being in control and that's what makes her such a great surgeon. When Arizona wants something done right, she does it herself. She doesn't ask for help; she certainly doesn't ask for pity.

She's never asked for anything except a little dignity and respect.

When Callie walked into the bathroom that night, she found herself looking at a woman at rock bottom who had come face-to-face with her greatest fear: weakness after a lifetime of teaching herself to be strong. A woman who had her independence stripped from her and was telling Callie point-blank that she _didn't want to live that way_.

At the time, Callie had ignored the desperation and devastation - or refused to acknowledge it - and had focused instead on the anger, retaliating with anger of her own.

She's lost count of the number of times she's asked herself why she said what she said, why she did what she did. Why she used her wife's weakness and insecurity against her; why she immediately went on attack. Why she took the dignity and respect Arizona so desperately longed for and threw them against the shower wall.

Callie has since realized that she can ask herself why until she's blue in the face, but there will never be a real answer. Just like Arizona can ask Callie, herself, the universe ad nauseam why that plane crashed. There's no answer for that, either.

She's also realized that even though she wishes more than almost anything that she could, she can't turn back time. She can't take her words back.

She can, however, say new words. She can take new actions, which always speak louder.

Callie puts the final pin in her patient's hip as her heart swells all over again with love for her wife: love she's going to express at every possible moment. Love she's going to make sure Arizona knows is never going away. Reverence. Respect. Wonder. Callie feels it all and resolves that Arizona will always know that. It's too precious to be taken for granted anymore.

There is no going back. There is only moving forward, together.

* * *

Callie whimpers and shifts in her sleep. A foot pokes out from under the blankets.

_"They never arrived in Boise," Owen informs the small table of doctors: Alex, Jackson, and April on one side; Webber, Bailey, and Callie on the other. "We've lost communication with the pilot." All the breath leaves Callie's body. Arizona. Mark. Lexie. Derek, Meredith, Cristina. _Arizona._ Her whole world. _

"Arizona," Callie mumbles, toes curling around chilly night air. Next to her, Arizona snores lightly, unaware.

_The days tick by agonizing slowly, but at the same time, they seem to blend together. Callie doesn't work. She couldn't if she wanted to, so consumed by gut-twisting worry that the one time she tried, she held an x-ray upside-down in her shaking hand before dropping it and crying. She spends her days waiting for her phone to ring and watching Sofia play in front of her. Sofia has been asking for Mama and Daddy. Callie feels as if her insides are on fire. Her whole body aches and twitches with fear and despair. She can't eat. She tries to sleep but can't do that, either. She needs to do _something_. She should be out there searching. Callie knows Arizona better than anyone else. Why does a team of strangers think they know where to look for her?_

Callie calls out for Arizona again, though the word that actually falls from her lips isn't a word at all, just a desperate, keening moan. Her foot jerks and tangles in the blankets. Arizona stirs but still doesn't wake. The anti-anxiety medication she's been prescribed to help her sleep at night does its job.

_What was the last thing Callie said to her wife? She doesn't even remember. Something about Nick? Did she try to convince her one last time not to get on the plane, to let Alex go and make an ass of himself in another state? Did she tell Arizona she loved her? _

_Callie remembers lingerie and body paint and the memory makes her sick to her stomach. She was thinking about sex while Arizona was - she can't even think it. Arizona is alive out there. She has to be. She was raised by a Marine; she plays dirty. She fights._

_Arizona hates the woods. She must be so scared. She must be cold and tired and hurting. She must be, because when Arizona hurts, Callie hurts too, and Callie is in _so much pain. _As long as she hurts - as long as Arizona hurts - she must still be alive._

"No!" Callie calls out, her whole body twisting and tangling in the blankets.

Arizona finally wakes at the shock of cold air rushing against her as the blankets are pulled away. Callie's voice echoes in her ear but she doesn't register any actual words. "Callie," she says quietly, voice rusty with sleep. "Calliope, wake up."

_It isn't fair. How is it fair? Things were finally going well. They were so happy. They had a beautiful, healthy, perfect baby. Arizona never stopped smiling. Callie never stopped buzzing with happiness. Sofia had three parents who loved her more than anything. Zola had finally gotten a family, a second chance. Even Meredith was happy. How often did that happen?_

_And now it's falling apart. Airplanes ruin everything. They always do. They take Arizona away to Africa or to God only knows where. Maybe they didn't crash. Maybe they're still flying around up there, lost, looking for a place to land. Callie doesn't give up hoping, but in the back of her head, she's planning funerals and wondering how she can possibly live without the woman she married._

_How long has it been? The search and rescue team has been relentless, but before they left, they said, "With each day that passes, the chances of finding them alive decrease significantly." Why does Callie remember that so vividly but she can't remember the last thing she said to Arizona?_

_The phone rings. Callie's heart stops. Sofia glances up at the sound. The caller ID says it's Owen. This is it. He's going to tell her that they've been found in Idaho, that Lexie is dead and Mark and Arizona are in bad shape but they're _alive_. He's going to say they're being transported to the nearest hospital and that he and Webber and Bailey are heading out there. Callie wants to go too; she'll beg to go, but Owen will tell her that Arizona vehemently refused. "Do not let my wife get on a plane," she said. Her words were slurred but clear. Callie's ready to go anyway - it's been _four days_ and this is the first time she's been able to breathe - but she looks at Sofia and knows she has to stay put._

_So she'll wait, going out of her mind with anticipation, and the next day will feel longer than the last four combined. But Arizona will arrive in Seattle and Callie will take the stairs two at a time to her room and both of them will cry for hours and Callie will _never_ let go -_

_"Callie." Owen's voice is flat, grave. "They've been found. No one survived."_

Callie shoots up in bed. The sound she makes is similar to that of a wounded animal. She's tangled up in the covers and glistening under a sheen of sweat. Her heart pounds and she's whimpering loudly.

"Callie," Arizona calls softly. "Callie, look at me."

Callie does, but her eyes are unfocused, not seeing what's in front of her. "Arizona!" she calls out.

"I'm right here," Arizona promises. She lays a tentative hand on Callie's arm. Callie gasps, recoils, then realizes that the hand really does belong to her wife. "I'm here. I came home."

"I lost you!" Callie crumples into sobs, collapsing against Arizona. "I lost you. You were gone!" Neither woman is sure whether Callie is talking just about the crash and the four days immediately afterward, or if she's also referring to the next few months.

"And then you found me." Arizona's hand rakes through Callie's hair and she rocks them gently. Her other hand traces the scar on Callie's chest through her shirt. "You found me, Calliope. You always do." Callie's tears slow as her last few cries escape. "That was a bad one, huh?" Callie nods. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Callie sniffles. "Not now. I just want to sleep."

"Then we'll sleep," Arizona says. "We'll sleep. Right here, together." Callie sniffles again. "As soon as you give me back my half of the covers. I'm freezing!"

Callie chuckles. "Sorry."

They re-situate, Callie pulling the covers over both of them and immediately curling around Arizona in the big-spoon position that makes them both feel safe and loved and _found_. Callie's right leg drapes over Arizona's hips, stretching into the mattress where it used to tangle with a left knee and foot. It feels strange, but Arizona gets a little more used to it each night.

"I love you," Callie murmurs into Arizona's neck.

"I love you, Calliope," Arizona promises. "Sweet dreams."

* * *

Arizona lies awake even after she hears Callie begin to snore. Twisting ever so slightly in her wife's arms to be able to study her face, she wonders how many other nightmares there have been that she doesn't know about.

Once upon a time, Arizona was Callie's shelter. She was her good man in a storm. She wiped away her tears when she cried; she held her hand when she was afraid. Whatever Callie needed, that was what Arizona was.

A pang of guilt hits Arizona squarely in the chest as she realizes that she hasn't filled that role in a long time. That's not who she's supposed to be. But is she really ready for that responsibility? She's just learned how to carry herself again; she's still learning. Is she really ready to add more weight to what's already on her shoulders?

But then...tonight she was. Tonight she was a good man in a storm simply by being there, just by being herself. Maybe Callie doesn't need grandiose gestures and heroic measures. Maybe all Callie needs is _her_.

Maybe Arizona can do that.

In her sleep, Callie whimpers softly and pulls Arizona a little closer.

"I'm right here," Arizona murmurs, finger lightly tracing a dried tear track on Callie's face. "I'm not going anywhere." She kisses Callie's chin. "I survived. I came home, Calliope. I came home and I'm not going anywhere. I survived."

Arizona is surprised to find that those words don't feel like a curse or a burden.

"I survived." She smiles. She's surviving every day, and if that's not being a good man in a storm, nothing is.

Maybe, just maybe, all she has to do to be what Callie needs, what Sofia needs, what she herself needs...is just to _be_.

* * *

Seeing each other naked has become unavoidable. When a pager goes off in the wee hours of morning, there's no time to worry about modesty or whose turn it is to change in the bathroom. Sometimes one of them has to pee while the other is brushing her teeth or showering. It happens, and each time it gets a little more okay. Still, Arizona doesn't make a habit of showing off her body, even when Callie does. It isn't for lack of love or trust ("I love you and you love me and none of the rest of it matters," Arizona said once, and she believes it more and more every day).

It's just that Arizona still doesn't feel completely at home in her body and, despite Callie's many reassurances, can't fathom that said body would be desirable. She certainly doesn't desire it. Why would anyone else?

And Callie will wait. Though she wants Arizona so badly it hurts sometimes, she knows that, like every other part of her wife's recovery, this - the reclamation of physicality, sensuality, and confidence - must be on her terms.

Arizona is aware that there's a difference between being naked out of comfort and being naked out of a real _desire_ to be naked. She's become (mostly) okay with walking from the shower into the bedroom in nothing but a towel draping her shoulders as she dries her hair. She's naked for the former reason and is _almost _verging on used to it. Still, it makes her uncomfortable when Callie looks for too long.

Which is exactly what she's doing now.

"Stop staring," Arizona scowls, letting her towel drop to hide the prosthesis she uses in the shower. Water drips from her hair onto her chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

_Busted_. "I'm not." Callie shakes her head. "I mean, I am. But-but only because you're all -" She twirls her hand in the air, trying to articulate. There isn't really any other way to say what she's thinking. "Arizona, I'm staring at your boobs."

A surprised little laugh bubbles out of Arizona's chest. Said boobs bounce in articulation. "Yeah?"

Callie's mouth is dry. "Oh, yeah."

Arizona smiles shyly. She feels unnerved by the intimacy, by her exposure, but she's comforted knowing that the sudden husk in Callie's voice is one she's heard so many times before. She chews on her lip. She'd really prefer to keep her prosthesis hidden, but her hair is dripping, making her cold. Closing her eyes and steeling her nerves, Arizona raises the towel fully to her head. She hears a slight gasp from the bed and nervously opens her eyes, expecting to see disgust on Callie's face. What she sees instead is quite the opposite: lust and want, but also admiration and reverence.

Callie pats Arizona's side of the bed. "Come sit with me." She's impressed that her voice still works. Arizona exhales shakily and moves toward the bed, towel dropping to the floor. She sits gingerly on the side of the bed, back straight, heart beating fast. "Hey," Callie says softly, reaching for her wife's hand. "It's okay. Come here."

Arizona edges a little closer as if any grand gesture or sudden move will flip a switch in Callie and change her mind. The toes of her right foot touch the sole of Callie's left, but her own left leg dangles awkwardly from the bed. If she's sitting or lying down for a long time, she's usually much more comfortable without a prosthesis. Arizona stares at her artificial leg in silent debate. Should she play it safe, or should she risk baring herself fully to her wife?

"It's okay," Callie says again, as if reading Arizona's mind. "It's just us. Take it off. I know you're more comfortable without it."

Arizona's eyes search Callie's and find only truth and gentleness. Slowly, she pulls the prosthesis away, totally revealing herself. Now she's _really _naked.

Callie smiles, taking Arizona in - _all _of her. "You're beautiful." Arizona scoffs. "I mean it," Callie insists. "You're gorgeous. _You._You're gorgeous." A beat. "Especially your boobs, though."

It's enough to make Arizona laugh softly, and she finally feels comfortable enough to scoot all the way over to Callie and lean into her side. Callie wraps an arm around Arizona's lower back, reaching her hand over to squeeze her left thigh affectionately. Arizona tenses only slightly, then relaxes some more.

"You smell good," Callie murmurs.

"Callie?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you - can you take your shirt off? Can-can we be naked together?"

"Arizona, of course," Callie breathes. "You're going to have to move, though."

Arizona heaves a dramatic sigh. "Well, okay." She leans away long enough for Callie to remove her oversized T-shirt and immediately snuggles back in. Both women's skin tingles at the closeness and warmth. In this moment, contentment radiates from Arizona, and Callie thinks that if this is all they do for the rest of their lives, it would be wonderful.

In this moment, Arizona is laid bare, and it's _okay_. There's just her and there's just Callie, two beautiful women pressed so close together there's nothing between them but two hearts beating as one. Smiling, Callie leans down and presses a kiss to Arizona's lips. It's Arizona who deepens it, opening her mouth and stroking Callie's tongue with her own. Only when they need to breathe do they part, and then they dive back in for more.

When they finally resettle against each other, there's a dreamy look in Arizona's eyes, though Callie can't quite tell where she's looking.

"Hey." Callie nudges Arizona's shoulder. "What are you looking at?"

Arizona smiles up at Callie, one dimple peeking through. "Your boobs."

* * *

**[Warning: this one is smutty!]**

There comes a night when naked kissing gives way to something else entirely: hands caressing smooth skin, hips pressing together, lips and teeth marking territory that is theirs. Arizona laves one of Callie's breasts with her mouth and teases the other with her hand; Callie sucks, bites at Arizona's collarbone, hands hovering at her hips, wanting so badly to move just a _little _lower.

When Callie feels a timid hand slide between her legs, her eyes flutter closed and she forgets herself. It's been _so _long. She moves one hand from an alabaster hip to cup Arizona and nearly comes just from how good her wife feels - so soft, so wet, so warm.

Arizona's hand stops moving. She gasps and squirms backward.

Callie stills her hand, too. "Arizona?" She gazes into wide, worried eyes. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I don't, um -" Arizona makes a noise between a laugh and a whimper. "How do you -" She takes a nervous breath and her next words are so quiet Callie almost misses them. "Do you still want me?"

"Arizona," Callie breathes. "Honey, _yes_." She feels tears prick her eyes and whispers her free hand down Arizona's face before tenderly kissing her lips. "I want you. A _lot_."

Arizona grimaces in disgust. "_Why?_"

"Because I love you," Callie answers without pause. "Because you're _hot_ and you make me feel _amazing._" Another kiss. "Because you're _Arizona._"

Arizona shudders a sigh and nestles her face into the crook of Callie's neck. "I love you," she mumbles. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Callie rushes to assure her. "It's okay. You don't have anything to be sorry for. I want you, Arizona. I think you can feel how much." She rolls her hips into Arizona's fingers in demonstration. "But we're not going to do anything you're not comfortable with. If you're not ready, we'll wait. You're worth waiting for." Arizona lifts her head and cracks a shy smile. "Do you want to just lie here for a while? Or we could watch a movie or -"

"No." Arizona looks at Callie with a mixture of nervousness, gratitude - and lust. "What you were doing before, it...it felt good. I want to feel good." She's ready to feel good again.

"Oh, yeah?" A slow smile spreads across Callie's face. She extends one finger, running it up through Arizona's slit. "What was I doing before? I don't remember exactly." Arizona's head falls back onto her pillow as she gasps. Torn between wanting to please her wife and her own desire to relish in the feeling of Arizona on her hand, Callie settles for something in between. She strokes her hand up and down Arizona's folds, collecting moisture that she rubs around her tightening clit. "Was it something like this?" She keeps her eyes on Arizona's face, looking for the first sign that she's uncomfortable. "Tell me if you need to stop, okay?"

Arizona hears her own words in her head, but they come out as gasps and quiet moans. She nods her agreement through her haze of pleasure. She'd forgotten how incredible this feels, that her body is something she can enjoy. That it's something she _deserves_to enjoy.

Two fingers tease circles around Arizona's opening. The toes of her right foot curl against the sheets. She can almost feel her left toes curling, too, but whatever upset accompanies that thought is suddenly replaced by euphoria as those fingers glide inside of her and her hips jump. The fingers immediately pick up a rhythm and Arizona can barely breathe.

When Callie's thumb presses against her wife's clit, Arizona cries out and Callie knows she won't last much longer. She wonders briefly whether she will herself. The way Arizona's body gyrates, the quiet moans she emits, the wetness spilling over Callie's fingers - it all just brings Callie that much closer to the edge. Still, she can tell Arizona is holding back, not fully trusting her body. It's been so long since she has.

She kisses Arizona's chin. "Is this okay?" she asks. "Does this feel good?" Her response is a high-pitched, breathy moan that sounds a little like "Yes." Callie licks a trail across Arizona's breast and sucks a nipple into her mouth. Arizona cries out again. "Let it," Callie says around her wife's breast. "Let it feel good."

"Callie -" Fingertips rub at just the right place and Arizona starts to see stars. "Calliope -" A thumb makes hard circles around her clit. Teeth scrape at her nipple; she feels it vibrate as the mouth around it hums in husky contentment. Arizona arches her back and screams.

It's a good couple of minutes before Arizona can control her racing heart enough to think about opening her eyes, but when she does, Callie is sucking her taste from her fingers.

"Hmm," is all Arizona is capable of saying. Callie surges forward to press their mouths together and share the taste with her. When they pull apart, Callie is looking at her with pure adoration. Arizona wraps her arms around Callie's neck and feels herself get choked up.

"See?" Callie teases, voice full of love. "Hot."

"Yeah." Arizona smiles, eyes falling closed in a contented blink. "Hot."

* * *

"I'm afraid," Arizona admits to her therapist one day in the middle of a session. She'd started seeing Dr. Lindsay shortly after beginning PT and surprised herself by continuing even after she'd been cleared to return to work. "I'm afraid to really live my life again and be happy. When I'm happy, that's when my brother dies or my best friend finds out he has untreatable cancer or I'm in a plane crash.

"Things with Callie are - they're good. They're finally really good. We still have bad days sometimes, but not as often. I just - I love her. We're really, truly in love and she makes me happy. Being married to Callie makes me happy." Arizona smiles. "I'm smiling more," she notes. "Sofia just keeps growing every day. She runs everywhere now. When she was born - one pound, one ounce - it was so touch and go for a while. I was never completely sure she'd make it this far. But she's here and she's growing and running and talking and she calls me Mama.

"And things are even feeling settled at work. I had my doubts about coming back, but I'm glad I did. It sucks that I can't go as long as I used to in surgery. I mean, it _really _sucks." She blinks back some of her anger. "But I go as long as I can, and then I start over the next day. I'm finally starting to feel like I belong there again." Arizona sighs. "But...I'm afraid to be happy. The universe seems to hate that."

"Are you afraid to be happy and let your guard down?" Dr. Lindsay asks. "Or are you afraid that if you let yourself be happy, you'll have fully accepted that this is your life now and you don't really want it to be?"

Arizona opens her mouth to reply and then stops when she realizes she doesn't actually know the answer. Yes, her life is back on track. But if she thinks about it, she's really, _really _pissed that she lost her leg. It just shouldn't have happened. Sometimes she still cries in the shower if she spends too much time looking at her residual limb.

Life isn't fair. It throws curveballs; it drops planes from the sky and dictates the deaths of people who aren't supposed to leave you. If Arizona dares to be happy again, to live fully, would she be admitting that maybe life _is _fair? That it's justified in what it's done to her? Or would she be saying that life isn't fair, but she's okay with that?

She doesn't particularly like either option. "I don't know," she finally admits.

Dr. Lindsay glances at her clock. "We're out of time," she apologizes. "Just think about it, Arizona. I'm not asking you to decide anything. Just think about it. If you're truly happy...what happens?" Arizona blinks, and Dr. Lindsay smiles. "Same time next week?"

"Yeah," Arizona sighs. "Same time next week."

* * *

"Hey there, baby girl. What's going on in here?"

Sofia pauses in her crying long enough to notice Arizona and acknowledge her with a quiet "Mama."

In the master bedroom, Callie jolts awake. She'd managed to sleep through Sofia's cries somehow only to be woken by her wife's voice on the baby monitor. Surveying the room, she notes that Arizona's prosthesis is propped against the wall where she'd left it, but her crutches are gone. Arizona must have heard the baby crying, gotten up, and gone to her right away.

Just like she always had.

"Let's see, how are we going to do this?" Arizona ponders how she's going to lift Sofia out of her crib and still keep her balance. She wishes briefly that she had woken Callie - or, at the very least, taken the time to put her leg on before getting up. But she'd acted on instinct: Sofia was crying and Callie was still asleep, so she'd gotten up, and she's here now. "I can do this," she mutters to herself.

Over the monitor, Callie hears something heavy moving in the other room and realizes Arizona is pushing Sofia's rocking chair across the floor to her crib. The thought that maybe she should get up and help vanishes. Arizona's got this.

"There we go," Arizona murmurs. She braces herself against the crib, lifts Sofia out, and immediately falls back into the waiting chair. "See? We did it." Sofia's cries slow to whimpers. "Yes, you're very unhappy tonight, aren't you? Why so many tears, hmm?" Arizona runs a hand over Sofia's head. "You don't need a new diaper. Did you have a bad dream?" She cuddles the baby close; Sofia pouts and makes little noises that aren't quite words. "Do you miss your daddy?"

"Mama," Sofia whimpers. "No, Mama. No, no, no." She may not have the vocabulary to express it, but she's been grieving, too.

"I know, sweetie," Arizona breathes. "I miss him, too. We all do. Every day."

Callie closes her eyes in the next room and tries not to cry.

"He loved you so much," Arizona continues. "He talked about you _all _the time. And I never saw him happier than when he was holding you." She expels a shaky breath. She didn't think it would be this hard to talk about Mark, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday that he was still here. "When you were born - when you were just a teeny-tiny baby - he promised he'd always protect you." A tiny bit of anger flares up in Arizona. Logically, she knows, had always known, that Mark's chances of surviving his injuries from the crash were slim to none. But sometimes she wishes he had tried a _little_ harder to live. If not for her, if not for Callie, then for Sofia. "That's what he's doing now," she continues. "He's protecting you even though we can't see him anymore." Arizona doesn't know if she really believes in angels, in heaven, but she thinks it's what Mark would want her to believe. "He's up there with Lexie and they're together and happy. And he's with Uncle Tim. Probably telling lots of jokes you're _way_too young to know about."

Callie smirks despite the subject. From what she's heard about Tim, she's sure that he and Mark would have been - _are_- wonderfully terrible influences on each other.

"He's looking out for you," Arizona promises. "Always." Sofia reaches up to grasp Arizona's heart necklace in her hand and Arizona gently wraps her own hand around her daughter's. She kisses Sofia's forehead. "That's from me." Another kiss. "That's from Mommy. Because she's too busy sleeping to come in here and kiss you herself." One more kiss, which Arizona lets linger. "And that's from Daddy."

Sofia whimpers again, but this time it's more out of tiredness than anything else.

"You have your mommy's eyes," Arizona says in a hushed voice that she hopes will lure Sofia to sleep. "And you have your daddy's nose." She nuzzles said nose with her own; Sofia smiles softly. "There's that beautiful smile," Arizona says. "You have my smile, baby girl." She rocks them for another minute. "I think it's time to go to sleep now," she whispers. "I'll stay a little while and make sure you have sweet dreams." She smiles down at the almost-asleep baby in her arms. "My sweet girl. Mama loves you so much. No matter how far apart we are, I'm always with you. I promise."

Callie hugs the baby monitor to her chest, not sure if she's ever loved her wife or daughter more than she does in this moment.

Finally, Sofia succumbs to sleep, Callie's eyes fluttering closed, Mark's nostrils flaring with a relaxed breath, and Arizona's smile gracing her lips.

* * *

"You were right." Callie plops down next to Arizona in the cafeteria.

Arizona swallows her mouthful of pasta salad. "Not that I ever have a problem with hearing that, but do you want to elaborate a little?"

"You were right. We should get a house."

Arizona is glad she hasn't taken another bite of food, because if she had, she'd be choking on it right now. That was probably the last thing she expected to hear out of Callie's mouth, and she's not terribly thrilled with the memories and images it's dredged up, either.

Images of herself, namely. Feverish, terrified, losing hope. On the verge of losing her leg.

"Um, yeah," she stammers. "We, uh, we can talk about that."

"Sofia's getting bigger," Callie explains. "She should have space to run around without worrying about bothering the downstairs neighbors." Callie frowns. "Who are our downstairs neighbors, anyway? Have we ever seen them?" She shakes her head. "Right, not the point. Sorry. I just...we should have a place with a dining room table -"

"We can get a dining room table -"

"We should have a place where there's room to _put _a dining room table."

Arizona moves her lunch around with her fork. Buying a house with Callie makes sense at this point in their lives. It's what she wanted, what she has to admit she still wants. On the surface, it sounds perfect. But can she take that step when she still isn't sure if she's really allowed to be happy?

Callie clears her throat, feeling nervous and a little like she's asking Arizona to move in with her all over again. "Uh," she says, beginning to backtrack. "I mean, our apartment is fine. It's great, really. If you don't want to get a house, I-"

"No, Callie, I just -"

"It's fine. Arizona, it's _totally _fine. It's just an idea. I was just thinking, okay? I know it's a big deal and we're still adjusting and -"

"Callie. _Calliope_." Callie stops to breathe. "You're rambling." Arizona's eyes sparkle softly.

"Well...yeah," Callie agrees. "You got all quiet and I thought -" She takes a steadying breath. "I've just been thinking we're on solid ground again, you know? And we should have a place that's just _ours_. Where we can make memories and-and a _life_. With a big living room where Sofia can have sleepovers and a guest room for when Teddy finally visits like she keeps saying she's going to."

Arizona's nerves abate just a little as she listens to Callie's descriptions. The minute she took her first steps on her new leg, she made a commitment to keep moving forward. She has to admit, after months of refusing to leave her bedroom, she is getting a little tired of seeing those four walls.

"...And a backyard," Callie is saying. "Where Sofia can run around. And where we can put chickens. If, you know, if you still want that."

A slow grin takes over Arizona's face. "Yeah," she says. "I still want that."

* * *

When she hears the door to the on-call room begin to open, Arizona hastily scrubs at her eyes and sits up on the bed. She hopes her makeup hasn't smudged.

The intruder steps fully into the room and Arizona can't help but smirk. "You're alone."

"Hilarious." Bailey rolls her eyes. "Booty Call Bailey needs to sleep sometimes too, you know." She eyes Arizona. "Have you been crying?" Arizona considers saying no, but there's no way Bailey - or anyone - would buy that, so she settles for not saying anything. "Are you going to tell me why?"

"It's nothing."

Bailey snorts. "Please tell me you have more respect for me than that." Arizona stares at her lap. "Look, I'm tired and I don't have the time or patience to sit here and hold your hand. You have ten seconds to tell me what's wrong before I kick you out of here and go to sleep in that bed."

Arizona sighs and shakes her head. "I lost a patient. Lily Schmidt. I took her in for a bowel repair and she coded on the table." Bailey crosses the room to sit beside Arizona on the bed and Arizona finally looks at her with glassy eyes. "She was seven."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Bailey says sincerely. "First one since you've been back?"

"Yeah." Arizona clears her throat, searching for the words she wants. "I know it's silly, but I keep thinking that maybe...maybe I was out of surgery for so long that I lost my touch. Maybe I'm rusty and out of practice and I made a mistake and that's why she died. And then I think that can't be it; I can do a bowel repair in my sleep and I've done more complicated surgeries since I came back. So then -"

"You're worried your leg has something to do with it."

Arizona closes her eyes and lets her head fall. How does Bailey always hear what people aren't saying?

"We all go over and back over surgeries that don't go the way we wanted them to. Sometimes people die and it isn't fair. Sometimes children die and it _really _isn't fair. We try to rationalize it, but sometimes there just isn't anything to rationalize. We blame ourselves because we can't blame the patient for dying. We're the doctors; we're supposed to save them." She looks Arizona square in the eye. "You and I both know that that little girl didn't die because one of the legs you were standing on happens to be made of metal."

Arizona shrugs. "It's possible though, isn't it? I can't stand in one place for as long as I used to. Sometimes it starts to hurt or I get tired and I don't concentrate as well. Maybe I lost my balance without realizing it and my finger slipped or I saw something start to go wrong and I couldn't move as quickly as I should have."

"Now you're just being ridiculous," Bailey tells her. "You lost your leg. Not your hands, not your eyes, not your mind. There's no surgeon bone." Arizona has to chuckle softly at that. "Listen to me. Arizona Robbins, you are _no_ less of a doctor because your leg was amputated. I _know _you know that."

"But -"

"No buts. If it'll make you feel better, I'll watch the next surgery of yours I can get to. But I don't need to to know that you are just as talented and just as diligent as you've always been."

"I have a laparotomy on a four-year-old on Wednesday," Arizona says softly. "Want to join me?"

"Now you're talking!" Bailey exclaims. "Your patients love you," she says. "Whenever I'm up on the peds floor, kids are always smiling and laughing and talking about how _awesome_ Dr. Robbins is. They don't know that anything's different. And I know that a lot _is _different, but if you let yourself believe that some things are still the same...they will be."

Arizona nods. It'll take some time for Bailey's reassurances to sink in all the way and really stick, but she's already feeling better. She moves to stand up. "Thank you, Miranda."

"You're welcome." Bailey squeezes Arizona's shoulder. "You're serious about that laparotomy?"

"I'm serious," Arizona laughs, getting up and moving toward the door.

"Good." Bailey sets her pager on the the table next to the bed and begins taking off her shoes. "Turn the light off on your way out. And for the next 45 minutes, if anybody's looking for me, you never saw me."

Arizona just rolls her eyes, laughing to herself as she flips the light switch. Some things really do stay the same.

* * *

**[Warning: this one is a little smutty.]**

Callie's kisses sear down Arizona's chest and stomach and it's all Arizona can do to keep breathing and not burst into flame. Callie's hands are on her breasts, thumbs working nipples into hard peaks, and her mouth is - god, her mouth is _everywhere_. Arizona's right leg is draped over Callie's shoulder, left thigh rolling with her hips.

As Callie's mouth moves lower, her hands replace themselves on Arizona's hips. Her fingers trail feather-light caresses down the tops of her thighs and back up. Then her tongue is licking at the crease where Arizona's right thigh meets her pelvis, teeth nipping at sensitive skin. Arizona thinks she's going to explode if she doesn't feel Callie's tongue on her _right now_. She's wet and ready, her entire center already throbbing and pulsing for attention. She's on fire and Callie hasn't even touched her yet.

Finally, Callie's mouth is gone and Arizona is sure Callie is finally going to go where she needs her, and then -

Callie's tongue and teeth repeat their ministrations on the crease of Arizona's left thigh. Her fingers rake downward and gently dance at the end of Arizona's limb. _No_. Arizona's eyes shoot open, feelings of pleasure immediately replaced by disgust and panic.

"Stop," Arizona chokes out, right leg sliding from Callie's shoulder. "Stop. _Stop!_"

Callie stops, head popping up. Her hands freeze in the air. "Arizona?" Callie's own panic sets in. She looks her wife up and down, searching for some clue to what's going on, and finds nothing that she can identify. "What happened? Did I hurt you?"

Arizona scrambles to sit up in bed. "What the hell are you _doing?_"

"I...I was kissing you." Callie's eyes are wide, her brain running a mile a minute.

"What is this?" Arizona barks as she pulls the top sheet over her bare body. "Some kind of - some kind of amputee snuff...thing?"

Callie sits up and rakes a hand through her hair. "What?"

"You were _touching _it!"

"I...what?" Callie's brow furrows. She is utterly dumbfounded. "I - we - I always touch you in bed, Arizona. I mean, I know we haven't - we haven't done it this way in a while, but-"

"You were _touching _it," Arizona reiterates. "Like it was some kind of...like it was..." She trails off, unsure of what exactly she means.

"Like it was your leg?" Callie supplies. "It is your leg."

"No it's not!" Arizona cries. "It's not. My leg is gone! All _this _is -" She gestures toward the thigh that pokes out from under the sheet - "Is a reminder!" She feels tears welling up in her eyes and she rubs a hand over her face. "Damn it." She starts to turn away from Callie.

"Hey," Callie calls softly, catching Arizona's elbow. "Talk to me. What are you thinking?"

Arizona stares at her lap. "Does it..." She scrunches up her face in the way that, even now, despite the conversation, Callie can't help but find adorable. "Does it turn you on?" Arizona almost seems to gag on the question.

"_You_turn me on, Arizona," Callie says firmly. "The way you roll your hips, the way you pull me in with your foot. The way you get goosebumps when my tongue is on you. The way you smell..." Her nostrils flare in pure lust. "The way you taste. All of that turns me on." Arizona sniffles, still avoiding eye contact. "When I make love to you," Callie continues, "I like to touch your legs. So that's what I was doing."

Arizona finally looks at Callie. "I could feel it."

"Feel what?"

"My right leg was over your shoulder and I felt - I felt my left leg on you, too. Just for a second, it felt like it was there."

"If you think anything was missing for me..." Callie's eyes shine with nothing but her deepest sincerity. "It wasn't. You know what it reminds _me _of? How brave you are."

"It just doesn't feel right," Arizona sighs. "It doesn't feel right for you to enjoy that part of me. And I know," she cuts Callie off before she can speak. "You're going to say you enjoy every part of me. But-but _I _don't. I wish I did, but I don't." She breathes heavily. "I just - I don't think I'm ready for this yet."

"Okay," Callie agrees easily. "Okay. That's okay." She scoots up next to Arizona and lays a hand on her back. "Thank you for telling me." They're silent for a comfortable few minutes, Callie's hand rubbing softly across Arizona's back.

"That feels nice," Arizona remarks.

"Yeah?" Callie smiles. "How about a back rub? Some people say I have healing hands." She wiggles the fingers of her free hand.

"Ooh, yes, please!" Arizona immediately rolls onto her stomach and stretches out, happy to be encouraged out of her own head and genuinely enthused at the idea of a Callie Torres massage. "Who are these people, by the way? I may not be super fast on my new leg yet, but it can do a lot of damage."

Callie laughs as she settles over her wife, right leg hooking under Arizona's. "It's just this one, mostly." Her hands begin to work at Arizona's lower back. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, dimples. Great boobs. _Killer _ass. You'll know her when you see her."

Arizona laughs, then moans in satisfaction when Callie kneads at a tense spot in her back. She's quiet for a moment. "Calliope?"

"Hmm?"

"My legs are a little stiff." Arizona takes a deep breath. "If-if you put your healing hands on them for a few minutes...that would be okay."

* * *

Callie is cocooned in blankets, surrounded by tissues on the bed and floor. A bottle of ibuprofen sits on her bedside table next to the thermometer and a half-empty glass of orange juice. Her nose and eyes are equally red.

"Hey," Arizona says softly, sitting on the bed and nudging the blanketed lump that is her wife. "A little under the weather, huh?"

"It's the plague," Callie groans, rolling onto her back and flinging an arm over her eyes. "Sofia brought the _plague _home from daycare. Those kids are cute but they're little germ factories!"

Arizona can't help but laugh. Calliope Torres is, hands-down, _the _worst patient she has ever encountered. "I'm sorry to hear that, honey," she sympathizes. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Soup? Vapor rub?"

Callie moves her arm from her face and quirks an eyebrow. "Vapor rub? You gonna rub me down?"

"If you're good," Arizona chirps. She pats Callie's hand gently as she gets up. "Sit tight. I'll be right back. I love you." She lays a kiss on her wife's warm forehead, not caring if she catches what's apparently going around.

As Arizona putters around the apartment gathering her supplies, she feels delight bubble up in her chest. Not that Callie is sick, of course. It's just that, after so long feeling helpless, dependent, and weak, it feels _so_good to be able to take care of her wife.

"The doctor is in," she announces as she re-enters the bedroom armed with vapor rub, cough syrup, and chicken noodle soup. "Soup while it's hot. Grape cough syrup afterwards if you can choke it down." Off of Callie's petulant pout, she says, "I know it's gross, but it'll help. And then you get rewarded with vapor rub."

"You're a good doctor," Callie mumbles, half-asleep. "You should work at a hospital or somethin.'" She waves her hand around until it lands on Arizona's elbow. She'd been aiming for her hand, but close enough. "How's your leg?"

Arizona smiles at her wife's concern. "A little sore, but pretty good. Thanks for asking." She regards Callie for a moment. The woman can barely hold her eyes open. "Why don't you get some sleep first? We can re-heat the soup."

"'Kay," Callie agrees easily, yawning. "When I wake up, I'll rub your leg for you."

"You don't have to do that, sweetie." Arizona's voice is choked by a sudden swell of emotion.

"I wanna," Callie insists softly. There's a beat of silence. "We c'n put vapor rub on it."

Arizona laughs, an indelicate snort escaping. "Calliope, go to sleep."

* * *

Arizona surveys the bedroom and rakes a hand through her hair. "When did we get so much stuff?" This is the stage of moving that she dreads: the part where nearly everything is in boxes and everything that isn't in boxes is strewn and thrown in places it doesn't belong.

Callie comes up behind Arizona and swats her ass playfully. "I think it was when you moved in."

"Hey!"

Callie holds her hands up in defense. "What can I say? I'm a minimalist!"

Rolling her eyes, Arizona nudges Callie with her hip and wades through the mess to the closet. Callie marvels at the relative ease with which Arizona moves. As recently as five months ago, she likely would have tripped over the stack of books on the floor or the long dress that hangs part of the way off the bed. Now Arizona barely looks at the obstacles in front of her, and while her steps are a little cautious, Callie suspects that someone who doesn't know Arizona at all wouldn't suspect that under the denim of her jeans is a prosthetic leg.

"I thought you said you packed the sweaters," Arizona says from inside the closet.

"I said I packed _my _sweaters. I didn't say anything about _your _sweaters."

"You don't _have _any sweaters!" Arizona rebuts. "Except for the one my mother gave you last Christmas, which you never wear because you always say it's too -" She abruptly stops talking.

Callie gives her a few seconds, but when she still doesn't hear anything, she grows concerned. "Arizona?" Silence. "Are you okay in there? I thought you came out of the closet years ago." Callie laughs to herself.

"Callie," Arizona finally says hoarsely, coming slowly into view. "What is this?" She holds up a piece of fabric Callie has to squint to see. When she recognizes it, she gasps and feels the color drain from her face. In Arizona's hands is a black lingerie dress with a purple, lacy bodice. She thought she'd gotten rid of it.

"It's a nightie," Callie says lamely, so quietly she doesn't know if Arizona hears her.

Arizona's eyes are wide. "Where did it come from?" She swallows as lust suddenly threatens to consume her. "And why aren't you wearing it right now?"

"I bought it." Callie feels like the floor has been pulled out from under her and she sinks to the bed. When she looks at the little dress, all she sees is herself wearing it in blissfully ignorant anticipation while her wife fights for her life in some Godforsaken woods. All she sees are memories, playing like a slide show before her eyes, of one of _the _worst nights of her life. "It was for-for when you got home from Boise. I had a whole night planned."

Recognition and sympathy shine in Arizona's eyes and she joins Callie on the bed. "You never told me that."

Callie wants to cry. "How could I? What would I have said? 'While your plane was crashing and Lexie was dying and you were fighting for your life, I was thinking about having my way with you.'? I just lay there, Arizona. Waiting for you in that stupid nightie. I should have - I should have known!"

"You couldn't have known," Arizona comforts. "There's no way anyone could have known." Callie just shakes her head. Arizona is quiet for a moment before she asks, "What did you have planned?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Callie shakes her head again. "I don't want to remember that night."

Arizona exhales slowly and looks at her lap, seeing both the nightie she's still holding and the faint outline of her artificial limb. "Well, we're never going to forget it." Callie feels like smacking herself in the face, but Arizona hurries on. "No matter what, we can't forget, and we shouldn't. But this -" She holds up the nightie. "This can be a good memory." Arizona looks around the room. "We've already worked through so much. Look how far we've come. The crash - what happened - it doesn't get to win now."

Callie's heart swells with pride for the woman who once thought her life had ended, the woman who once thought she wasn't strong enough to keep going. Every time Arizona smiles, every time she laughs, Callie just wants to take her in her arms and tell her how incredible she is, and it's moments like this that Arizona appears positively radiant with strength and bravery.

"Besides," Arizona smiles. "The fact remains that my wife is ridiculously hot in lingerie, and nothing can take that away." She leans in for a kiss.

"I had body paint," Callie says quietly against Arizona's lips. "That night. I had flavored body paint."

Arizona gulps as her pupils dilate. "This is a good memory," she manages to say. "This is _ours_. That night can still be ours. We get to make new memories, Calliope." She swallows heavily before she can drool on the nightie.

Still, Callie is hesitant. "I don't know if I can." How can she wear it now, after everything that's happened? How can she wear such a tainted memory?

"You can," Arizona reassures gently. "It's just us. You and me, making memories." Callie looks at Arizona and bites her lip. "Let me put this in terms you'll understand." Arizona smiles sweetly. "Calliope Torres, if you don't put this on and let me lick chocolate off of you, I will divorce you."

Callie's mouth drops open and a surprised laugh falls out. Arizona just smiles at her expectantly. Taking a deep breath, Callie says, with only the smallest tremor in her voice, "The body paint is in the closet behind the sweaters."

* * *

The new house isn't terribly far from their old apartment building, but as Callie pulls the U-Haul to a stop in front of 821 Orchid Street - a blue house with a front and back yard, a finished basement, and not too many stairs between the first and second floors - she feels like she may as well be in another state. The house is ten minutes from the hospital as long as the traffic is light - not bad at all.

But it's also ten minutes and - Callie clocked it - 5.7 miles away from her first home in Seattle (the Archfield and the hospital basement notwithstanding). From the place where she and the love of her life had their first date and their first night together. From the place where her daughter - and her wife - took their first steps. Never again will she see Mark's door as she walks into her own apartment, even though it hasn't been Mark's door for months.

She wonders whether the woman who lives there now will even notice that the family across the hall is gone.

It's the end of an era. It's the beginning of a new one. Still, as excited as Callie is to move into a _real home_ with Arizona and Sofia, to build a life all their own, the sentiment is a little bittersweet and there have been butterflies in her stomach all morning. This is _it_.

She steps out of the truck just as Arizona pulls up behind her in the family car. Sofia is in the backseat, too busy observing her new surroundings to pay either of her mothers much attention.

"Hey." Callie places a hand on Arizona's back as she's bent over the backseat, unbuckling Sofia. Arizona jumps and Callie realizes that her wife looks about as nervous as she feels herself.

Arizona has been jittery all morning; excited beyond belief, but also terrified. She's talked to Dr. Lindsay at length about this, and it's helped, but nothing can shake the nerves she feels at the prospect of really, truly _moving forward_. It's something Arizona struggles with every day: the idea of letting herself be happy despite being very _un_happy about a big part of her life. She's afraid that acceptance will bring with it complacency and a status quo that she doesn't want.

And yet the concept of happiness is _so_enticing. She's missed being happy. Every time she gets a taste of it, she remembers how much she loves it.

Apartment 502 is home to a host of good memories: her first dance with Callie. Her first night in Callie's bed. Their first "I love you." Arizona witnessed the first almost-two years of Sofia's life in that apartment. When Arizona looked out the window, saw the sun, and decided she wanted to try her hand at a second chance at life, it was in that apartment.

But she can also leave behind memories that shouldn't have to follow her to her new home: her first breakup with Callie. The insecurity and doubt she felt all through Callie's pregnancy. Mark in the living room, Mark in the kitchen, Mark in the hallway. The four walls she spent months staring at, drowning in heartache and anger.

This is a chance to leave all those memories where they belong.

Arizona and Callie exchange nervous smiles that grow bigger and more genuine as they look into each other's eyes. Sofia, nearly two, wriggles in Arizona's arms and asks to be put down. She's eager to explore, but she stays close, aware that this is a place she's never been.

Slowly, the two women make their way up the path to the front door.

Callie catches Arizona's elbow. "You ready for this?"

Arizona swallows. "I think so."

"Mama," Sofia whines, pulling at Arizona's pant leg. She's tired of this place already, ready to go back to her room, play with her toys, and run laps around the living room when she's done. "Go home."

For a split second, Arizona contemplates Sofia's request: she could easily jump in the car and drive back to their apartment. They could be there in ten minutes. In ten minutes, they could be back in the place Arizona's grown used to, the place where all of her safety nets are.

This is scary. It's starting over. It's moving on.

It's not forgetting; it's not sweeping away. It's a future. This is _it_.

Arizona bends down and scoops Sofia into her arms. Callie's warm hand moves to the small of her back. "We are home, Sof." She takes a deep breath and reaches for the doorknob. "Come on, big girl. Let's go home."


End file.
